


Moonlight

by AkiraCassidy



Series: Akira's gifts [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Gotham by Gaslight (2018), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Declarations Of Love, First Dance, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Dancing, True Love, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraCassidy/pseuds/AkiraCassidy
Summary: ―There is no us Damian, there can't be an us. You know what happens to men who lay with other men. Even if your father has a lot of money, nothing excludes us from public scrutiny. What will they say about you? ―Richard takes the young man's hands in his, leaning in a little to look at him.―That's why you keep insisting that I get married because you care what they'll say.―I'll be married in a few months. ―Grayson confesses.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Series: Akira's gifts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067426
Kudos: 21





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sam9505](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam9505/gifts).
  * A translation of [Luz de luna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221270) by [AkiraCassidy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraCassidy/pseuds/AkiraCassidy). 



> Thank you very much to Sam for participating on Twitter with this giveaway. I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it.  
> Follow me on Twitter @CassidyAkira

The faint sound of the phonograph plays a slow melody. Both bodies move to the rhythm, dancing delicately, the adult hand on the shoulders of his young partner. The teenager stands upright, with his palm on his teacher's waist and squeezing the other hand between his fingers. Raising his eyes, a little to meet the eyes of his master.

―You are getting better every day. ―The teacher comments. The young man's hand pushes back, leading the older man around. The boy is not so tall, so he has to stand on the tips of his feet to be able to pass his hand over the elder's head.

The young man's fingers tighten around his teacher's waist when he notices him looking out of the window. The sound of the famous waltz is still played on the phonograph, they have danced so many times that even if they are both distracted, they can still keep up. The teenager again, he leads. He is the one who must learn to guide a woman in real life.

―Be more delicate, if you do that with a girl you could hurt her, Damian. ―The older one complains. He turns his gaze to his young pupil as they both walk on the track. The sound begins to get faster.

―It doesn't matter. ―Damian sinks his fingers into the softer flesh of his mentor's waist. Getting closer so they can both turns if the other boy were wearing a dress that move would look amazing. But it's just two men, dancing in the intimacy of an old, lonely room. ―If you get tense, I have to lead you harder. What's wrong with you today, Grayson?

―You're already a good dancer, I think you're ready to be presented in society.

―I'm not getting married. ―The young man protests, stopping his dance as he walks away from the centre of the floor, with the music at its highest point, Richard sighs. ―I've repeated to you and my father that I'm not interested.

―You are the only son of Bruce Wayne; it is your duty to follow the bloodline. Your father did it...

―When he was almost 30, Grayson. He can't pressure me to get married and have children at 16.

―Bruce is old now, he wants to meet his grandchildren. ―Grayson goes after the young man, preventing him from turning off the phonograph. Wait Damian if you turn it off the employees will come in.

―Do you want to be alone with me?

―I don't mean that.

―You know that I learned to dance since last year and I keep pretending when I dance with my mother to extend these lessons.

―Don't say that in front of anyone else.

―I know I shouldn't, I know why I shouldn't. This, us.

―There is no us, Damian, there can't be an us. You know what happens to men who lay with other men. Even if your father has a lot of money, nothing excludes us from public scrutiny. What will they say about you? ―Richard takes the young man's hands in his, leaning in a little to look at him.

―That's why you keep insisting that I get married because you care what they'll say.

―I'll be married in a few months. ―Grayson confesses.

―When were you planning to tell me?! ―The teenager grabs his teacher by the lapels pulling him closer.

―I'm telling you now.

―When?

―When what?

―When are you getting married?

―In December, with Barbara Gordon.

―Why?

―Because that's what your father wants for us.

―The wrong answer. ―Damian takes a step forward, closing the distance between them even more―. The correct answer is "because I love her”.

―You know better than anyone that I don't love her. ―The young man's hands go up on the old man's chest as if he were fitting his lapels.

―Then don't force me to marry for convenience. Marry me. ―This is not the first time Damian has made this proposal, nor is it the first time he has refused. The music is still going strong, loud enough to make the employees and more importantly, the other family members think they are still dancing. Wayne's son will be 17 in a few weeks, his mother planned a huge party with the intention of introducing him to some girls and having him choose a wife.

―You know that's impossible. ―Richard keeps his arms down, barely moving them, with no intention of touching Damian more than necessary. Tim was engaged, Jason's wedding would take place after Damian's birthday. Dick had used the excuse that Barbara wanted to study and then get married, which was giving her time.

―Let's run away.

―You're saying that because you know I'm getting married.

―I'm saying this because I've been planning it for a while.

―Since when.

―Since my mother started talking about my marriage.

―Your father will kill me, he will say that my duty was to take care of you, to teach you, as if you were my brother as if you were my son. Like he did with me. Not this Damian, never this. ―Richard takes a step back, trying to open the distance. Wayne clings to him, wrapping his arms around the elder's neck.

―You're not my brother and we don't have to tell him that.

―He'll find us.

―Would you rather stay here? Marry a woman you don't love and pretend everything is perfect.

―We can keep in touch.

―I won't be your mistress, what do you want this to be? We'll meet once a month in a crummy opium tavern. It will be worse when they find out.

―No one has to know.

―I want to tell my family that I love you. What's wrong with that?

―Everything, I'm older, I'm your brother, I'm a man.

―The only problem is that you are a man. Nobody would complain if I wanted to marry Cassandra, even if she is older or my sister.

―That's not the point.

―What is then?

―This has to end, today.

―Well, I don't know how you're going to explain to my father that I don't know how to dance.

―I don't mean dancing. I'm talking about this thing we call us. No more, I'll tell Bruce that the lessons are over, and I'll move into the house I bought for Barbara.

―You are a coward.

―Do you want to go to jail?

―You haven't slept with me, that we love each other is not a crime.

―Who is going to believe that? When someone, whoever knows about this they will put us both in jail. We will not get a fair trial; you are a teenager, and no one will believe that we have done nothing but kiss.

―It's the truth.

―Don't be naive.

―Don't be naive, you Grayson. I'm serious, let's go north to Canada or south to Mexico. We'll join a circus, buy a farm, take my violin, and be street performers; we can go anywhere you want. Far away from here, where nobody knows us.

―You don't know what you're saying, you were born and raised in opulence. You don't know what it's like to be cold, to be homeless, to be hungry.

―I'll die anyway, maybe tomorrow I'll get stuck with a peach seed and die young or live another 100 years and die old. ―Damian is at his fingertips, Richard knows it. He's not tall enough yet―. What matters is how I will live that life, in this stupid room learning to dance or out there with you. If I have to starve to death, I want it to be by your side.

―For the thousandth time no, you can't ask me to do this. He's suicidal, you don't know the world... ―Damian doesn't put on his gloves when you dance, he doesn't either. He can feel the young man's hands grabbing his hair and pulling it to lure him into a kiss. Richard told the truth; they have only kissed. Wayne presses him against the phonograph table trying to corner him, so he doesn't run away. Dick doesn't want to run away, because it's rare for the young man to take the initiative and much more so that he's so intense.

Pulling Richard's hair, separating his lips to allow his tongues to move to the soft tone of the music. Grayson's hands hold the young man's waist by sneaking his fingers under the knitted waistcoat. Damian gasps against his mouth, pushing his leg between Dicks’.

―Wait. ―Richard begs, taking the boy by the shoulders.

―We're leaving today, go to your room and pack your bags. ―Damian orders, that's his decision and there's no way to reverse it. Richard tries to ignore Wayne's warm erection on his thigh. To think that he is not as hard as his beloved, that he has not secretly wished to reach much more than those kisses. Damian takes a step sideways and shakes his clothes, clears his throat as he removes the needle from the phonograph―. Wait for me in the greenhouse at midnight.

…

Richard Grayson is saying to himself that he shouldn't be there, not in the middle of the night, not with two huge suitcases and pockets full of money. He shouldn't be waiting for Damian. Because it is wrong that he wants to run away with him, he is a rich boy, he does not know the life on the street, he does not know how to take care of himself. But if he gets married, he knows that Damian will leave anyway, alone on the street, afraid, with no one to take care of him.

He tries to convince himself that he doesn't do it because he loves him, rather because it's his duty. Not because Damian loves him and he loves Damian because he has also thought of having a farm and sitting on the porch, both holding hands. Looking at the swamps, the cornfields, or the land with animals. Far from civilization, from the prying eyes of people, from gossip and scandal. Where they can love each other no matter what.

―Get in. ―The young man orders, jumping from the driver's seat of the car and taking the bags to push them inside. Damian carries his violin, some huge suitcases. A saddle and something in a chest that Dick doesn't recognize and his painting case. Grayson climbs into the carriage as both of them get going. Dick's heart beating against his chest as if trying to get out through his mouth.

There are no more words between them as if they would be discovered if their voices were heard. Damian stops the chariot before dawn, changes his tired horses for someone else's, and takes new ones to continue on his way. Dick is not sure where they are going, he did not tell him. By now they must have noticed their absence, maybe they would be in the newspapers, put their faces all over the roads to find them.

―How are you? ―Damian questions leaning out of the little crack.

―That's what I should be asking, you haven't slept in almost a day. We should stop.

―Come here and take the reins, one more day and we'll be reaching the desert.

―We'll go to Mexico?

―There we'll decide where you want to go. You can go back to the circus; we'll buy a house near a lake. I'll let you choose. ―The younger one explains. Dick gets off the carriage to take the reins―. You just have to follow the road; if you get lost, wake me up.

Dick knows how to drive a carriage; he knows how to get to Texas. He has changed his expensive clothes for something more discreet, he peeks out a little bit to make sure Damian is okay. The sun becomes stronger warning that they are close to their destination, far enough away from gloomy Gotham. Now they are where the sun is shining, and the wind is blowing.

―It's my turn. ―Damian speaks as Grayson's eyes are about to close―. We will camp at nightfall and decide tomorrow where to go.

It is the third day of the trip when they finally arrive in the desert. Richard has barely slept a wink when he hears the new horses whinnying and the carriage stops. Damian curses aloud, leaving the driver's place, and opens the door of the carriage. The interior is too narrow for two to enter; because of the suitcases piling up and the chests.

―Give me the black chest, it's a tent, I'll sleep outside. ―Wayne demands.

―I will help you.

―Well, we must take advantage of the light that remains. I don't want to make a fire; we'll attract too much attention. ―Dick is not sure when Damian learned to put up a tent, maybe he saw the employees doing it. He didn't take a course, but the boy works easily and quietly. What should he say now? What does he want to do now? Richard hits the last stake while Wayne puts the padded seat covers in the tent―. I took a shower at the last stop, there's water in the back if you want to take a bath. I'll wait inside.

―I will, thank you. ―Richard wonders if that's right, thinks of a way to get back to Damian with his family in case something goes wrong. Maybe he will write a letter to Bruce as soon as they settle down. Where he says that both of them are fine, that he helps Damian to fulfill his dream of being a wandering artist. Devising a way to lie to the man who took him in as his father, the one who betrayed him. So as not to break Bruce's heart, so as not to reveal to him that they ran away to be together. As a couple, as matrimony, as two people who love each other.

―I don't think my parents want to look for us. ―Damian says when Richard enters the tent. Inside it's warm, there are some soft sheets, and the armchairs serve as a comfortable bed. It will be the first time they sleep together. Let them share the same space.

―Why do you say that?

―I left them a note. I told them I was leaving, that I didn't want to get married, that I kidnapped you and forced you to come with me. I even said that if they wanted you to live, they shouldn't look for us. We will put an ad in the newspaper next week.

―Why?

―Because if this goes wrong, I want you to go back to your life, go to that woman, and get married. Say that I forced you to come with me because I don't want this to ruin your future.

―Damian, the only future I need is with you. ―Grayson leans over the makeshift bed, holding Damian's hand over the sheets.

―Sleep with me tonight. ―The young man asks, his voice is not shy, but sounds determined. His bright emerald eyes sparkle in the faint moonlight that passes through the tent.

―Are you sure of that?

―I have never been so sure. ―Wayne bows to the front, Dick smells of soap and desert. His hair is still a little damp, but the tip of his nose is cold to the touch. Richard places his hand on the teenager's neck, his skin is burning, not only because of the heat of the desert. Because he is young, and he too has desired more contact than those kisses. Grayson pulls the sheets as he crawls, letting Damian lie on that bed.

―I love you. ―Richard admits.

―I know you love me. ―The young man's hands begin with the buttons opening the white shirt.

―You're supposed to answer that you love me too. ―Dick abandons his garment, slipping the dark waistcoat and shirt of his beloved. Bending over to look him in the eye.

―Don't you already know that I love you? If I didn't love you, do you think I would be here, with you, in the middle of the desert? ―Damian's nails stick in his hair, raising his head to kiss him. Attracting the elder with him, he spreads his legs to give him a comfortable position. His warm breaths mixing in every passionate contact, pulling the lower parts of his clothes. As if their lives depended on taking off those pieces of clothing.

Damian's skin is soft to the touch, careful with the best products. Like the most expensive silk between his fingers, soft as clay and hot as freshly served tea. His melodious voice can be heard even better in the calm of that distant hillside. Where it is not overshadowed by the music of the taverns or the rolling of the carriages. Where it does not contain its sounds because it does not have to hide from anyone.

Because they are alone, finally. It seems that they have waited an eternity for it, to be able to touch themselves under their clothes, to extinguish that fire that has been consuming them for years. Damian is rude, perhaps incredulous, digging his nails into the back of his beloved, sinking his teeth into the skin of his neck. Not only to mark him as his own but because he is like a dream.

As he has dreamed so many times, he believes that at any moment he will wake up and be in Gotham. In that huge room, with a painful erection between his legs and he will have to return to his boring everyday life. Where he can only be satisfied with the passionate kisses that Richard gives him when they dance. Where his closest contact is being squeezed by his beloved when he forgets to keep up.

But they are no longer in Gotham and that is not a dream, not because when Richard pulls his hair it hurts. His skin itches and burns in the places he has touched. As if his calloused hands had nettle, but as if they also possessed the cure to make the discomfort go away. It should be cold because the night has fallen, but even the hottest of summers in Gotham does not compare to that.

Their bodies pressed so close together as if they wished to melt together. Their limbs rubbing together, as if they were dancing. Damian does not recognize his own voice, sobbing, nor the man in front of him. Because Grayson was always serene, calm, and straight. Because Grayson had insisted that he should not be taken beyond kissing.

Damian even believed that Dick didn't want him, that this was the reason to reject him. The older boy's wet fingers moved inside him, while his mouth sucked that place behind his neck. Maybe he lied a little when he said it was only kissing, sometimes Richard let him rub against his leg while he kissed him there. In that place that made his skin bristle and made him tremble. That place that made his knees shake.

―If you want to stop, say so, we don't have to. ―If Grayson could see himself in a mirror, he wouldn't recognize himself either. His face covered with sweat, his hair disheveled, and his eyes obscured by his pupils trying to look at his beloved in the dark.

―If I'm going to be accused of sodomy, at least let me commit the crime. ―Damian's voice, panting, confirms that it is not only he who has had these perverse desires. Wayne separates his knees taking Richard's hand between his, with the same intensity they use when dancing. They look at each other in the darkness, with no intention of turning back. Grayson presses the tip of his cock over the dilated entrance, bows down to join his forehead with the young man's.

― Are you sure? ―The elder insists, more because of his own fear of hurting his beloved than because he doubts his beloved's judgment.

―If you keep insisting, I'll get angry. ―Damian raises his free hand, clutching Richard's face―. I love you.

―You were waiting for this moment. ―Grayson smiles, leaving a short kiss on the teenager's nose. Damian's legs close over his waist, hitting Dick's back with his heels. Wayne gasps, digging his nails into Richard's arm as he pushes himself inside. Slowly, without hurrying until his hips collide.

The elder stops, kissing Damian's cheek. Rinsing with his lips the tears that escape from the minor's emerald eyes. Caressing the teenager's back to comfort him, leaving a trail of kisses up to his neck. Wayne sobs sigh and move his face trapping his beloved's mouth.

The skin slightly moistened by sweat between his fingers, Damian's apple-flavored breath against his mouth. Their tongues moving together, making their teeth clash, their breasts joined while they feel each other's heart threatening to escape from their thorax. Grayson holds his beloved's waist, adjusts his legs, and sways slowly, parsimoniously. Letting Wayne's voice drown in his mouth.

He's a tough kid, Richard knows it. He didn't cry when he fell off the swing or when he had to take injections. But that wasn't supposed to be torture, it was supposed to feel good for both of them, it was their biggest show of affection. Coming together as one, two beats to the same rhythm, two hearts that belong together.

Richard feels when Damian's nails stop digging in hard when they go up his back to hold his neck and kiss him desperately. As the young man's hips move in a silent plea for him to accelerate. Grayson breaks the kiss, which they have been sharing for long minutes, their lips swollen by the rage of contact. He takes Wayne's chest in his hand, pulling the small bumps, causing the young body to quiver at the touch.

Wayne gropes for his cock, pulling his face back. Letting his legs separate so that his beloved adjusts so that he takes him strongly. Grayson's mouth closes over his neck, painting a purple mark on the front. In an act of silent revenge for what Damian did before. He charges the teenager, their bodies colliding at a different pace, in a dance that is new to both of them.

The young man's voice resonating in the middle of nowhere, without silencing his wonderful sounds, with no one else to hear them. Damian's thighs shake and whimper as he notices the change. Neither his fingers nor what he got at the mansion is like that. Richard is warm at his core, throbbing, at every onslaught he fills with strange sensations and is much better than he has ever dreamed of.

His big hands running over his body, kissing the skin under his clothes, squeezing him against his bed and leaving him breathless. Why was it forbidden for them to love each other? Why was it frowned upon for them to give themselves away like that? Why could only a man and a woman be united on that level? moving to the beat of the best piece of music. The panting voice of his beloved and the melodious sound of their skins colliding.

To the sound of their hearts beating in their chests, of the crickets outside and the deafening sound of ecstasy bursting in their ears. Overshadowing any scream or sound other than themselves, the music of love and the dance of courtship. Just as animals do in nature, just as they do at that moment. Far from the law of man and hidden from the law of God.

Damian sticks his teeth into the shoulder of his beloved, letting his body tense up in order to relax afterwards. Compressing Richard in his entrails, he feels the burning liquid filling his core, similar to the one spilling over his stomach. Both shivering in the remnant of their union, they embrace as if they were not close enough, shaking and shivering. Panting as they do after a race.

―I want to stay here and be a baker. ―Richard whispers, squeezing Damian into his arms.

―Do you know how to bake bread?

―No, but I will learn.


End file.
